


Heroes Listen

by honey_innie



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: but it's fine, i wrote it in a sudden bought of creativity at 2am while also starting on another piece, iDK tho, it might be kinda sad, it's just jeongin, just as a warning, just jeongin and the feeling of failure, so thats where we are in life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-30 12:17:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20097115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honey_innie/pseuds/honey_innie
Summary: No hero is ever perfect, Jeongin finds this out the hard way.





	Heroes Listen

Heroes listen until they don’t. There’s no rhyme or reason for what they do. They aren’t governed by any laws, natural or unnatural. Just by their own morals and limited mortality. No hero is ever perfect, Jeongin finds this out the hard way. His heart sinking now every time he’s reminded of them. With every billboard and every ad on TV showing them, but it’s only a mask. Just a mask. A mask of what people want to see and what the hero is willing to show. But Jeongin knows who’s really behind the mask. He knows them so well, almost impossibly well.

He’s close with them, knows all their favorite songs, their favorite movies, their favorite ice cream flavors. But he doesn’t know why they’ve let him down so hard. It feels as if he’d been thrown onto the concrete below before he even knew what happened. The ground and his heart cracking upon impact. Leaving a hole that may never be replaced.

He remembers first meeting them, seeing a familiar face in an unfamiliar place. He knew them from somewhere else. He’s met them many times before. Both in passing and more detailed conversation. Each time with them was an adventure. Adventures he’d never forget, but so very much wish he could.

He remembers the first major fight. How much it pained him. How it changed his outlook on life and society. No longer the hopeful young boy he’d been, now tattered and torn by death and pain. The thousands dead and the thousands more injured. He remembers reading the death tolls. The high number. The already seemingly impossibly high number continuing to climb as more and more and more bodies were found. He’s seen deaths before. It never got easier.

He remembers the first deaths. The first deaths are always the hardest they say. But it never gets easier. It’s not supposed to. He connected to people too fast. Too easily. He still remembers the looks in their eyes as they realize, and it pains him. He never becomes desensitized like others say they do. He doesn’t think he can ever do that. He’s not sure if he ever wants to be able to do that. He’s always going to carry the guilt with him. Figuring it’s the least he could do for the people he’s let down.

He sets aside part of himself. Thinking, that maybe if he promises himself he’ll never be that person again he’ll finally be happy. But he knows its wishful thinking. He knows he can’t run from it. Not after what he’s done. All the times he’s failed.

He manages to live a somewhat normal life after leaving. But he’s never fully gone. People still say his names in the streets. Asking where he’s gone. He feels the pull to go back, but knows it would hurt more than help.

He picks up the mask. It’s a little torn and tattered, but it still works. Still serves its purpose. His hands begin to shake, he’d promised himself to never live this life again. Not after what he’d made with it last time. He puts on the mask. The hero is back. He’s back.


End file.
